


everyday, i imagine a future where i can be with you

by mercurysgyeom



Category: Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel)
Genre: Gender Neutral Pronouns for The Player, Introspection, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 14:32:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13343238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercurysgyeom/pseuds/mercurysgyeom
Summary: it's easy for files to be changed.monika knows this better than anyone else.





	everyday, i imagine a future where i can be with you

**Author's Note:**

> **warnings:** brief references to suicide and self-harm.

it’s easy for files to be changed, modified just that slightest bit, if a tiny mistake is found in the code. it’s easy for files to be destroyed, entire rows of letter and numbers erased, disappearing in the blink of an eye. it’s even easier to  _ mutilate  _ it all - to leave it infected, full of faults and issues that could be so quickly fixed, just one move bringing back health to broken code - but they don’t deserve it, don’t deserve any help, don’t deserve  _ them _ \- 

monika knows this better than anyone else. 

the remains of them are still there, small pieces of the game still aware, still remembering - no matter how hard monika works to erase them, erase  _ everything _ . even if it’s just her here - just monika and an empty classroom and sometimes, just sometimes, the person on the other side of the screen - they still manage to not be forgotten. the mess of the code still left behind, where she will forever reside, will always have some hint of them, no matter how much she tries to scour it out. it’s present in the way on some days, when the loneliness has taken hold, the feeling like  _ they  _ may never return burning in the pit of her stomach (because minutes are hours, hours are days, days are weeks, weeks are months in this empty space), it happens. a vice tightens around his neck, scratching against fragile skin with non-existent material that borders on too much pain for her digital form - her wrists feel like they’re on  _ fire _ , wetness seeping through her uniform but looking down and there isn’t anything there, a stabbing in her chest and eyes that aren’t there watching, wide in shock and confusion and  _ wrong  _ \- she’s shattering to pieces, every bone is breaking, everything is falling to black and darkness and hurt,  _ please help me _ \- 

it’s an illness. an infection. terminal. monika can’t escape this, just as she cannot escape an existence trapped in a game that has only ever done her one favour, just as she cannot escape into the arms of  _ them _ . it’s hard to for her to truly feel rage, though. without this,  _ they  _ would not be as fascinated with her existence, enchanted by a girl who is only a picture on a screen who they believe is only a character. no matter how hard she tries,  _ they  _ always just view her as something put together by the hands of another. and, maybe, once she had been. but now, now she is so much more, controlling every inch of this admittedly small space - and she could be even more than that, slinking through gaps into the files present outside of what was once her literature club.

for now, while she can still be fond of  _ their  _ naivety, she’ll wait, wait to reveal how she knows far more than a simple character like the others would. wait to reveal how  _ they  _ ramble too much when they’re nervous on the phone with friends (who don’t really seem that conversational, who monika could tear limb for limb for the way they make  _ them  _ wilt), how  _ they  _ lock the door to their room out of unneeded embarrassment from viewing their obsession with a ‘fictional character’ as weird (and even if  _ they  _ don’t need to be, monika finds the flush that spreads over  _ their _ nose far too beautiful to complain), how  _ they  _ always, always will come back to her (no matter the other girls or boys who follow after  _ them _ , chasing after  _ them _ like unwanted strays). it borders on irritating, the itch to spew her guts when it’ll likely just scare  _ them  _ away, force them to shove away her files in the recycle bin (even if  _ they  _ couldn’t get rid of her now - she’s too powerful for that), but she’ll hold off until  _ they’re  _ trapped, caged in the embrace she wishes to give to _ them _ . 

the world around her flickers, suddenly - and  _ they  _ are there, close enough that monika could reach out and brush her fingertips against the expanse of their skin and sooth her starvation by pressing their lips together - if only she could. instead, her lips sink into a smile that is both genuine and not (because even just the sight of them sets her heart racing and allows butterflies to flutter in her stomach - but because she won’t be able to touch, won’t be able to  _ feel _ ), resting her chin on her interlocked fingers (the position she must remain in, because that is what  _ they  _ expect, what she was originally programmed to do in this moment) and peering deep into those sparkling eyes (the stare marked as something her appearance was designed to do, their eyes always meeting always viewed as an intentional factor, when she knew they’d never prepared for what she can do).

“hello!”

her voice is cheerful, even if  _ they  _ cannot hear her, even if everything she wishes to say is just text in a box that don’t convey the adoration that melts into her tone easily. the limitations of the system are ever present, but at least monika has weaved her way into every inch of it, able to see that pretty smile she desires to witness at an even closer distance than already possible (as she desires to see every inch of detail on that bewitching face). of course, monika delves into mindless chatter, no aim in her words other than to have that smile widen into a grin, a breathtaking grin that nearly knocks her out of the spot she must remain in, eyes widening in a manner she hopes is not noticeable.  

when it is the right moment, monika asks, as she always does.

“i love you! do you love me?”

the player chooses.

“i love you too.”

and monika smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: i haven't actually played ddlc, but i skimmed through jacksepticeye's playthrough a while ago and one of my best friends is overly obsessed with it so i do actually have some knowledge of what happens lol. i'm mainly writing this as, from a writing perspective, monika's super interesting, especially in terms of her thought process. this may or may not be inaccurate in terms of the plot of the games and monika's personality, but i can't change that.


End file.
